


Backscatter

by Ghoststar



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: "Dark" Daniel, 1990, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Johnny Trying his Best, M/M, Mystery Elements, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post The Karate Kid III, all canon warnings apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29852988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghoststar/pseuds/Ghoststar
Summary: “Really, Johnny?” LaRusso demanded. “You sure you want to fight me? We all know how well that turned out for you last time.”Johnny balled his hands and took a step forward, closing the scant distance between them. He looked down at him, at his angry brown eyes, and hissed, “yeah? What about you? You always thought you were so much better than the rest of us and look where you are now: playing house with a bunch of snakes. How does it feel to sell out to your enemy? I hope it was worth it.”LaRusso’s eyes burned. He leaned in, so close they were sharing the same heated air. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”-Or: Daniel never escaped Terry's influence in 1985. By September 1990, Cobra Kai has once again become a powerhouse within the valley, with Daniel playing point. When Johnny finally takes notice of Cobra Kai's returned and Daniel's role in it, their old rivalry is reignited with a few key differences: they're both fighting on different sides and this time they have a whole lot more to lose than a tournament.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso & Mr. Miyagi, Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence, Johnny Lawrence & Mr. Miyagi, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 11
Kudos: 56





	Backscatter

Johnny woke up Thursday morning with a hangover from hell, a message on the machine, and a curse for every letter of Bobby Brown’s name. 

His hangover wasn’t Bobby’s fault, in the sense that Bobby hadn’t forced Johnny to drink, but it was Bobby’s fault in the fact that he hadn’t been around to stop Johnny from doing it to himself. If Bobby hadn’t run off to Illinois to help with disaster relief efforts Johnny wouldn’t be crawling his way to the bathroom to find the migraine killers Bobby kept stashed under the sink. If Bobby was home Johnny wouldn’t be making bad choices and acting _this_ fucking stupid. 

Bobby wasn’t Johnny’s keeper, but he was the only one that could cram some sense into Johnny’s head. 

The pills were tucked away behind a pack of toilet paper and inside Bobby’s leather toiletry bag his grandmother had gifted him, right along with the apartment keys. The pills weren’t prescription, but they were as strong as over the counter could get. Bobby had taken to hiding them when he realized Johnny’s “migraines” were mostly brought on by over drinking and not divine retribution or whatever. Not always- Johnny hadn’t lied about the _actual_ migraines that struck one or twice a year- but enough that Johnny was burning through a bottle every other month.

Johnny was just glad Bobby couldn’t hide anything for shit. 

Johnny leaned back against the tub as he swallowed the pills. The floor was ice cold but it felt nice in the stifling apartment. Johnny rolled the rattling pill bottle along his forehead, eyes closed in a semi-permanent wince. Yesterday had not been one of his bests. Johnny hadn’t had many bests over the past few years.

When the headache began to fade, Johnny pulled himself to his feet. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, slapped on some deodorant, and stumbled his way into the kitchen. He ate cereal right out of the box, shoving fistfuls into his mouth, and washing it down with water drank straight from the sink. When he was done, he turned the water to hot and made a cup of instant coffee in the cleanest mug he could find, crunching the undissolved powder between his teeth and regretting most of his life choices.

The answering machine blinked at him from the counter, winking at him with a bitter promise.

_Fuck_ him. Fuck Bobby too. Fuck tornados and Illinois and all the shit Johnny had drank last night that he could somehow still taste. Johnny should know better, he did know better, but damn if he could think more than three seconds ahead of any situation. 

On second thought, thank God Bobby wasn’t home to ream him out a new one. 

Johnny ripped open another pack of instant coffee and didn’t even let the tap water get warm. He grabbed a plastic spoon from their takeout collection and went to lean against the counter. He hit play before the Lawrence Factor got the best of him and he deleted it, message unheard. 

_“Hi, Johnny, it’s mom,”_ Laura’s soft voice filled the apartment. She sounded tired, but she so often did these days when it came to Johnny. 

Johnny closed his eyes and pictured the look on her face, the furor of her brow, the pinch of her lips, the exhaustion in her eyes. In his memories, she always seemed golden, the way her blond hair would come loose from her ponytail in a messy cloud, the way her smile used to light up her whole face. Time and stress had dimmed her, dragging her down to earth and grounding her there. Johnny wanted to blame Sid, but there was no denying Johnny had been dragging her down half her life too. 

_That boy is deadweight._ Yeah, that was a pretty accurate description of Johnny Lawrence. 

_“I hope you made it home safe last night. You really shouldn’t drive like that, Johnny. Alex is going to be upset when he comes in on Monday.”_ Laura admonished, soft and skirting the subject. “ _He really prided himself on those hedges. But it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”_ Laura said with forced brightness. “ _After all we were thinking about putting in some azaleas-”_

Johnny tuned her out. 

Logically- and hello, hindsight, where were you when Johnny needed you- Johnny should have declined his mother’s invitation to have dinner at the house. But the prospect of real food, not the shit he’d been eating, was too good to pass up. He had hoped, just a little, that Sid might get in a fiery car wreck on his way home from work but the man had been perfectly punctual. 

It hadn’t taken long for Sid to start picking. Johnny should have ignored him, but Sid knew just how to get under Johnny’s skin. When Johnny started getting pissed, he should have just called it a night. He should have gone home, gone to bed, and gotten up for his shift at the garage on time. 

Johnny hadn’t done any of those things. Instead he knocked a two thousand dollar vase off a shelf, kicked Sid’s side mirror off his car, and backed over their thousand dollar hedges with his car. He’d done all of this after lifting a very fine, very expensive bottle of bourbon from Sid’s office. And then he’d gone home and celebrated his brilliant little _fuck you_ to the world by drinking himself right into a hangover. 

Jesus Christ, Johnny was _so_ fucking stupid. 

“ _I know things are difficult with Sid, baby, I_ know.” Laura was saying when he turned back in. “ _I just wanted-”_ she blew out a heavy sigh and let it go. “ _But I shouldn’t have asked you to come to the house. It wasn’t fair to you. I just miss you. You’ve been home for months and I never get to see you.”_ Johnny rolled his eyes and stuffed down the thread of guilt. She was back on _that_ again. 

“ _How about dinner tonight, just the two of us?”_ Laura asked. She left a name of a vaguely familiar restaurant and a time. She said goodbye and then remained on the line for a long, drawn out moment before finally hanging up. 

Johnny erased the message. He drained the last of his coffee, swishing the water around in his mouth to rinse away the grit. He left the glass stacked on top of the other dishes that had gathered in the sink and tossed the spoon in to hear it clatter. The clock on the stove said it was _7:15_ but it was actually _7:48,_ seeing as no one had ever bothered to fix the time. 

Johnny rubbed his face and went to get dressed for work. 

-

Devon was waiting for Johnny when he slunk inside. Devon had his feet kicked up on the counter and a newspaper spread out in front of his face. All the guys knew he spent the morning shift looking at porn mags, his lunch break jerking it in the bathroom, and the last four hours of his shift doing his actual job of managing the place. Johnny wasn’t sure why he bothered to hide it at all, it wasn’t like they had many customers to scare away. Mostly because they were all remarkably shitty at their jobs. 

“You’re late, Lawrence,” Devon said. “Again.” 

_No shit,_ Johnny thought. “Sorry. Got held up in traffic.” 

Devon reached for the radio, turning it up until the buzzing voices became clear. Johnny cast his eyes heavenward as the tail end of the traffic report became audible. When it went to commercial, Devon turned it back down.

“Next excuse?” The man behind the newspaper asked.

Johnny had plenty but- “The girls will never forgive you if you fire me.” 

Devon scoffed, the bastard. “They’ll learn to live without you.” 

The girls in questions perked up. Martha and Jamie abandoned their spots sprawled out beneath the window unit and trotted over to Johnny for their morning pats. They were the laziest, ugliest dogs Johnny had ever seen, but they liked Johnny well enough and Devon loved those dogs more than his “secret” stash of porn.

Still, Devon was an almost decent boss. Better than Johnny’s last six at least. He wasn’t going to blow this job over one bad day, not if he could help it. He was trying. That was something at least, right? 

Johnny breathed through his nose and offered, “I’ll stay late.”

Devon’s newspaper fluttered, one eye briefly peaking out. “And clean the bathroom while you’re at it.” 

“Sure.” Johnny said, waiting for Devon to return to his paper before he let his disgust show. Johnny patted the dogs once more and went to do an especially half-assed job of fixing cars. 

-

Johnny left the garage after six with Devon’s shitty directions in mind and grease still under his fingernails. He smelled of orange degreaser and pine-sol. A shower and a change of clothes would have been nice, but Johnny didn’t have time for it. Devon’s directions, vague as they were, got him where he needed to be. He found a parking space a couple blocks down and walked the rest of the way, already twenty minutes late and ready to leave. 

The restaurant was some French place that had been around for years. Johnny had heard about it in passing a time or two, might have even eaten at it once, but he couldn’t remember. His mother was waiting for him, perched on a leather sofa in the waiting area, a polite smile fixed to her face. She was worrying her necklace between her fingers, painted nails scratching at the chain. When she looked up and spotted him, something close to a real smile graced her face. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Johnny said and went to hug her. He tried to be careful, but she had no qualms about wrapping her arms around him tightly, unworried about grease and stains. 

“It’s okay, baby, you were at work.” She leaned back, running her hand through his hair to smooth it down. She tucked it behind his ears, smiling to herself. “There, that’s better.” 

She was getting ready to start reminiscing, Johnny could see it in her eyes. He stepped back, tilting his head towards the hostess that was watching them with thinly veiled distaste. 

“Ready to eat?” 

Laura picked up her purse and linked her arms through his before Johnny could shove his hands into his jeans. He let her drag him along as she breezed her way past the snooty hostess and to their reserved table. 

Laura led him to the raised and partitioned off area that looked out over the rest of the restaurant. There was a wall topped with over spilling flowers. Champagne colored tablecloths, pink flowers in a crystal vase, sterling silver utensils on silk napkins. Laura had picked somewhere expensive, something that wouldn’t break Sid’s bank but would dinge it just enough to leave a message. 

Johnny would have preferred Burger King. 

They made small talk while they ordered and waited, Laura dancing back and forth between country club gossip and asking about Johnny’s life. Sid was a big, gaping hole in the conversation, his name never escaping but his presence felt despite her efforts. Even when it was just the two of them he hung between them, an unnamed shadow that tainted everything he touched. 

Their food came out in waves. Johnny picked at it, listening with one ear and the other caught on the music playing nearby. The restaurant wasn’t quite fancy enough for a live musician, but they had classical music playing loud enough to dull out other people’s conversations. Even so, Johnny could hear Cher coming from the kitchen, threads of it drifting out whenever a waiter passed through the swinging doors. He was pretty sure it was someone’s mixtape being played and was trying to guess what would come next. 

“Johnny?” Laura asked and Johnny looked at her. 

“I’m listening,” he said and hoped she wouldn’t test him on that fact. 

She tilted her head to mimic Johnny’s unconscious gesture. She listened and smiled, a little sad, a little wistful. “I like this song too.” 

Johnny drank the last of his water and tried to pull his scattered attention back to her. “You were saying?” 

She retraced her thoughts and started again, voice lacking some of the original enthusiasm. He knew that exact tone of voice and hated himself just a little for bringing it out. The pieces he had caught slotted into place as he finally got the other half. 

“Since when do you do charity work?” Johnny asked half way through her talking about the fundraiser she was organizing at the country club. 

“Several years, at least since your freshman year of college,” Laura said, looking a little put out. _Please do not start in about college, please do not-_ “I told you about it. We raised seventy-five thousand dollars for Saint Jude in 1986 alone. Admittedly, half of that money came from one donor- never mind, you wouldn’t know him. He joined after..” _The incident._ This whole conversation was a fucking minefield. 

“Seventy-five?” Johnny interrupted and felt a little mean when his next words slipped out. “Isn’t that pocket change to some of your friends?”

“‘Friends’ is a little strong. And it is, but that took a lot of hard work to get out of them,” Laura defended. “You know what a bunch of tight asses they are.” 

Johnny let out a startled laugh and Laura smiled, proud of herself. It wasn’t often she pulled out the _impolite_ language anymore, so much of it packed up and left behind when she got married. There were appearances to be kept and rich assholes to appease. Her and Johnny had always walked a very thin line with the Encino upper class, one slip from being labeled trash and ostracized. Laura was adaptable and Sid’s money could speak volumes but Johnny hadn’t been able to play the long con, no matter how hard he tried in the beginning. 

But damn if Johnny hadn’t left his mark on them on his way out. 

“What’s this one for?” Johnny asked and hoped she hadn’t already told him. 

She hesitated. “Single mothers.” 

“Little on the nose, Mom. I’m surprised Sid’s not throwing a bitch fit about it.” 

Her jaw and eyes went steely. “He doesn’t get a say in this. It’s taken me years to talk the club into hosting this charity and I’m not going to let this chance go. Fundraising is something I’m good at and it’s something I’m passionate about.” She took a deep, steadying breath and reached for his hand. “This cause means a lot to me, Johnny, and it’d mean the world to me if you were there for it.”

There were a lot of ways Johnny could respond to that request. He wanted to say no, who wanted to spend an evening watching rich people patting themselves on the back for doing the bare minimum of helping the less fortunate? He didn’t want his mom using him as some kind of example, he wasn’t even a _good_ example. But his mother was asking and Johnny could feel himself caving. He grasped at any excuse and found only one. 

“Aren’t I banned?” 

“Baby, we paid for the repairs years ago.” 

_God damn it. His legacy, gone just as quick as his excuse._

“What night? I might have to work late. And you don’t want me showing up like this, right?” Johnny asked and gestured at his messy clothes. 

“It’s the Saturday after next. I’ll send you the invitation and something nice to wear. I’ll save you a plate if you’re late, okay?” 

Johnny pulled his hand out from under hers. “I’ll try, Mom, but I can’t promise anything.” 

Laura's hand lingered on the table for a moment before she withdrew. “That’s all I can ask,” she said. She fixed the napkin in her lap. “Dessert?” 

-

It was nearing eight when they left the restaurant. Laura had paid the bill and tipped the waiter generously with one of Sid’s many cards. The temperature had cooled a few degrees with the sun well and truly set. It was a nice change from the recent heat spikes. 

“Where did you park?” Johnny asked as they stood outside the restaurant.

Laura looked up from where she was searching her purse for the cigarettes she kept hidden there. “Just down there.” She waved her hand in the opposite direction of where Johnny’s car was.

“I’ll walk you.” Johnny offered and waited for the small, pleased smile she always gave him when he was acting chivalrous. 

It didn’t appear. She looked down the long, brightly lit streets and then back at him, something pulling her brows together. “Oh, you don’t have to, I’ll be fine, baby. You should just head on home. You’ve got an early shift tomorrow, don’t you?” 

“I have time to walk my mom to her car,” Johnny said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

“Alright, but only if you let me drive you back to your car afterwards.” She caved, giving up on the cigarette she was pretending not to want. 

They walked the three blocks to her car in silence, a small frown maring her face. Johnny watched her out of the corner of his eye and noticed she was doing the same. By the time they reached her Ford Escort, Laura was already getting her keys out to unlock the doors. 

They climbed inside, slamming their doors at the same time. They rolled down the windows to let some of the stifling heat out. Laura cranked the car while Johnny got the radio playing, both clicking their seat belts in before Laura pushed the cigarette lighter in with a flick of her fingers. Laura checked her mirrors, gaze sticking on the end of the street for a moment, before she pulled out with an illegal U-turn. 

Johnny pointed her in the right direction, fingers tapping along to the song on the radio. Laura preferred old crooning country, the type of stuff her father had listened to when she was young. The man died longer before Johnny was born and the only thing Johnny had of him was his name. 

Laura pulled alongside Johnny’s car and idled there, foot on the brake and an eye in the mirror to look out for traffic. Johnny got out, shutting the door firmly behind him. His mom leaned across the seat, calling out to him before he could get far. 

“You’re heading straight home?” She asked. 

“Planning on it,” he said. “Why?” 

“I’m your mom, I worry,” she said and there was a little too much truth in it. “Call me when you get home?”

Johnny agreed with a frown and watched as his mother drove away, back towards her empty house in Encino. 

_That was weird,_ he thought. Had she been trying to hide she was smoking? Johnny had seen his mom smoke plenty of times. She used to have a cigarette everyday at three twenty when Johnny would come in after school to wait for her shift to be over. She’d flick the ash into a glass and talk about his day, would coax him into talking about the books the class was reading but Johnny had already finished, eager to move onto something better, something that came from the shelves behind the counter at the school library that required parents permission to read. 

_Weird,_ Johnny thought again and got into his car. Windows, radio, seat belt. Johnny pulled out onto the road and started to head home. At the second intersection he paused, the light going from yellow to red as he waited. Fingers tapping on the wheel, Johnny glanced down the street. 

He flipped on the turn signal and waited for the light to change. He coasted along the street, retracing the path they had taken. The place she had parked was already taken by someone new, headlights still on. He reached the end of the block and looked both ways before continuing on. 

Two blocks down, he was starting to wonder if he was imagining it. Maybe his mom had been trying to quit smoking and didn’t want Johnny to see her slipping. Hell, maybe she had found the stash of weed Johnny had lost somewhere in the house back during high school when he was still smoking. Maybe that was how she put up with Sid’s shit all the time. 

It was at the third block, fingers on the turn signal so that he could start heading home, that he saw it. It was at the very end of the block with a dedicated row of parking out front, and a few parallel spaces along the side. Dead center was a red Viper that screamed _steal me._ His eyes skimmed past it all, past the expensive car and the building, past the sign, then jolted back. His foot hit the brake hard enough to jolt himself forward, horn letting out a short honk. Johnny stopped mid block, eyes locked on the sign, and everything else disappearing into the periphery. 

“ _What the fuck?”_ Johnny whispered to himself, thoughts tripping over each other. 

For a moment, Johnny felt misplaced, like he had blinked and found himself on the other side of town. But even if he was, the sign had come down years ago. Johnny and his friends had sat at the restaurant across the street and watched it happen, something cathartic and heartbreaking about an entire era of their lives ending in the back of a truck heading for the dump. 

There had only been one sign, only one dojo in the valley, and it had shut down years ago. This- this shouldn’t be here. This _couldn't_ be here. It was closed, buried, gone. 

The lights were on inside. 

A car beeped their horn as they passed, startling Johnny badly. He sucked in a breath and unclenched his hands. He looked around, not really seeing anything, not really processing either. He pulled into an empty space along the side and got out of his car without thinking about it. 

Johnny walked up the street and it was like walking through an old memory. It wasn’t a perfect recollection, but it was enough to make the world distant, to make the differences dim. The memory lodged itself somewhere in his throat and stuck there as he pulled open the door and walked inside. 

The dojo was bigger, cleaner, newer. It was different, but not enough to keep Johnny from breaking out in a cold sweat as he crossed the threshold. Two dozen students, all college aged by the looks, were finishing up a practice routine that Johnny could still follow in his sleep. Johnny tracked their movements, eyes darting to the wall of weapons, to the windows, to the mirrors, then back to the students. To the gis and the Cobras rearing up across their backs. 

It was an old comfort turned familiar nightmare. 

The students finished with a deep bow and over their heads Johnny saw who was leading the class. Their eyes met and the full body shock that jolted through Johnny paralyzed him. 

“Johnny?” Daniel LaRusso asked, eyes wide and startled, voice soft even as it carried its way over the student’s heads. There was a smile threatening to creep across his face and Johnny wanted it _gone._

_LaRusso,_ Johnny wanted to say, wanted to wield his name like a knife that would tear this fever dream into shreds and let Johnny slip to the other side. There wasn’t enough air to so much as breathe them. 

_His hair is shorter,_ Johnny thought. 

Out of the corner of his eye Johnny saw someone step out of the office. Johnny looked and the cold sweat turned into a flash freeze, icy weighing his stomach down until it dropped between his feet and shattered there. 

“Class, it appears we have a visitor.” Kreese called out and no one seemed startled to see him, no one even blinked at the _dead man_ stalking his way across the room, moving between rows of students, creeping closer to the door _. Closer to Johnny._ “Class, say hello to Johnny Lawrence. Johnny is a former student of mine. He was reigning champion before our Danny came along.” 

Johnny dared a single glance at LaRusso, just one, and found him looking back. The smile was gone and not a trace remained. His jaw was clenched. 

Johnny’s eyes swung back to Kreese, finding him closer than he had been a moment before, too close. Johnny’s legs tensed, the air in his lungs going static and still. 

“Have you come back to join us, Johnny?” Kreese asked, his smile too wide, teeth on display like a skull grinning from the bottom of a grave. 

“You’re supposed to be dead.” _His mother had said-_

Kreese clicked his tongue in disappointment. He was too close, one step more and he would be in grabbing distance. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten everything I’ve taught you.” 

_Cobra Kai never dies._

Johnny glanced over Kreese’s shoulder and towards LaRusso who was closer than before. The smell of Kreese’ cologne coiled between them. In the split second Johnny looked away, Kreese lifted a hand and reached for him. 

Johnny knocked his hand away before it could touch him. He reeled back a step, back coming flush with the door, the space too crowded for him to get into a proper stance, Kreese too close to dodge around. His heart was beating so loudly he hardly heard himself speak. 

“You should have stayed dead,” Johnny snarled and shoved the door open, backing out without breaking eye contact, without turning his back, not until the door was shut between them. It closed on Kreese’s smirking face. 

Johnny turned, walking without feeling the pace of his feet, without noticing he was moving at all. The thunder of his pulse, the shudder working its way up his spine, the way panic was burrowing a new home inside himself. 

He wasn’t surprised when the door opened behind him. Wasn’t surprised when he heard LaRusso call out to him. 

“Johnny, wait!” 

Johnny didn’t stop. Not until the pounding footsteps caught up to him and there was a hand on his shoulder, reeling him around. Johnny followed the pull, twisting around and swinging full force. He missed by a hair, LaRusso stumbling back a step to avoid falling as he dodged. He caught his balance quickly, feet finding a familiar stance. 

“Really, Johnny?” LaRusso demanded. “You sure you want to fight me? We all know how well that turned out for you last time.” 

Johnny balled his hands and took a step forward, closing the scant distance between them. He looked down at him, at his angry brown eyes, and hissed, “yeah? What about you? You always thought you were so much better than the rest of us and look where you are now: playing house with a bunch of snakes. How does it feel to sell out to your enemy? I hope it was worth it.”

LaRusso’s eyes burned. He leaned in, so close they were sharing the same heated air. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What’s there to know? How about you do us both a favor and get fucked, _Danny_.”

Hands fisted in his shirt and Johnny’s back hit the hood of the Viper, thoughts scattering on impact. The taste of blood burst in his mouth as he bit down on his tongue. The hood was scorching from being out in the sun all day, burning through Johnny’s thin shirt and straight to his skin. Johnny’s hands shot up, catching LaRusso’s wrists and squeezing tight, even as LaRusso leaned his weight against him to keep him there. 

“ _Don’t_ call me that.” LaRusso spat, chest rising and falling in sharp, furious breaths. 

They stared at each other, the moment drawing itself out like taffy, like it could wrap around them and seal them away from everything else. 

Johnny kept his chin down, even as he dared to ask, “What’re you going to do about it? Going to choke me like your new sensei?” 

LaRusso’s eyes dropped to his hands, so close to Johnny’s throat his knuckles were brushing Johnny’s Adam's apple. His grip loosened and Johnny shoved him away. He went, backing up another step when Johnny pushed himself upright and off the hood. Johnny straightened his clothes with a sharp tug, hands shaking. 

“He’s not my sensei,” LaRusso murmured, hands clenching at his sides, eyes not meeting Johnny’s. “I’m nothing like him.” 

Behind him, Kreese was watching from the windows. 

“Keep telling yourself that, LaRusso,” Johnny said and slammed his shoulder into him on his way passed.

Johnny wasn’t going to look back but then he did just that. Just for a second, just a glance, but LaRusso was still standing where he left him, barefooted on a hot sidewalk, head bowed, hands fisted by his sides. Then Johnny was turning the corner and LaRusso was lost from sight. 

Johnny didn’t look back again. 

-

Johnny’s hands didn’t stop shaking until he was pulling into the parking lot. The shaken, shivering thing inside him had withered up, leaving behind an ember or rage that he was nursing steadily into a flame. The drive had given him time to think, to calm down, and instead he had used it to wind himself up further and further. Johnny parked in a reserved spot, uncaring if the rightful owner came home and found their spot stolen. 

The apartment was on the second floor and Johnny took the stairs at a jog. One of the neighbors had wrapped Christmas lights around the railing looking out over the parking lot, maybe the year before, maybe already gearing up for some Christmas cheer. Their apartment was two doors down from that, near the end of the building, and was missing the number sign. Dutch had taken it months ago, a joke without a punchline as far as everyone else could accern. Johnny banged his fist in the clean spot left behind. 

The tv that was playing quietly stopped. Someone stomped their way to the door and Johnny’s fist was still posed to knock when the door was yanked open. Tommy stood on the other side, face set to kill, and looking like he had rolled right out of bed and straight onto a basketball court.

Tommy had just enough time to get out a surprised, “Johnny!” before Johnny was shoving his way into the apartment. 

“Nice to see you too,” Tommy muttered behind him, shutting the door. 

Johnny went right for the kitchen. He breezed past their living room, a bright room full of plants and wicker furniture and piles of textbooks on the coffee table. He walked right past Jimmy, who was sitting at the dining table, and towards the fridge that was cluttered up with pictures of their friends and families, half of them of Tommy’s baby sister. Johnny yanked open the fridge, heading for the produce drawer where Tommy always kept the beer. Instead, he found it filled with Yoo-hoos.

A second of confusion quickly bled into resignation. 

Johnny grabbed one, cracked it open, and drained it with the door still open. It tasted like tin and did little to wash the taste of copper out of his mouth. 

“You okay, Johnny?” Jimmy asked, pushing away from the table and leaving behind whatever tree hugging hippy bullshit his internship had him working on this week. 

Johnny held up a hand, continuing to drink. He finished it off and crumpled the can, tossing it towards one of the bins sitting nearby. Jimmy heaved a sigh and went to put it in the right can. Johnny bent, picking another one, and finally shutting the door. He was already drinking it when he turned to face them, catching a worried glance being exchanged between Jimmy and Tommy. 

“The garage let you go?” Jimmy inquired, trying to sound nonjudgmental and approachable. 

“Man, I told you that Devon guy was a scumbag. Don’t let it get to you. My cousin’s got this exotic pet store-” 

“I didn’t get fired, you jackass. Why is that the first thing you thought of?” Johnny asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. With a segue, he announced, “Kreese is alive.”

_“What?”_ Jimmy and Tommy asked at the same time. 

“Not funny man,” Tommy stated flatly, gathering himself first. 

“I wish I was joking,” Johnny laughed and it was strained to his own ears. “But he’s still kicking. Guess the rumors were just rumors.” 

“That’s- that’s fucked up,” Tommy said, folding his arms, and frowning. 

“Tell me about it,” Johnny agreed, drinking deeply like Yoo-hoo held all of life's answers spelled out in chocolate residue. 

“Who spreads rumors about someone dying?” Jimmy asked. 

“You think that’s fucked, wait until you hear the rest. LaRusso was with him-”

“ _LaRusso?_ ” 

“Yeah, LaRusso. That son of a bitch is his student or his assistant or something. That hypocritical two face little snake-” Johnny crumpled the can and threw it. Jimmy patiently picked it up and put it too in the right bin. 

“Dude, that’s crazy. Where did you even run into them?”

“At the dojo. They brought back Cobra Kai.” 

“Oh.” Tommy said and exchanged another look with Jimmy. 

It took Johnny exactly a second to decipher the look. Tommy was an open book and always had been, even if half the pages read of anger issues once upon a time. Tommy had gotten them caught more than once back in high school, his expression giving away the game too soon. It gave him away now too. 

“You knew,” Johnny accused and couldn’t hide the hurt in his own voice. 

_This was unfuckingbelievable._

“Only for a few months-” 

“A few months!” Johnny shouted. One of the neighbors banged on the wall, shouting at them to quiet it down. 

They all ignored them. 

“You’ve been having a rough patch lately and it-”

“We just didn’t know how to bring it up.” Tommy cut in. 

“You’re a communications major, Tommy. Don’t they teach you how to, I don’t know, communicate?” Johnny snapped. 

Tommy opened his mouth to correct him and got an elbow in the side from Jimmy. 

“We were just trying to do right by you, John. We didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“You don’t get to decide what’s good for me.” Johnny looked between them and felt sick. His eyes were burning when he said, “You should have fucking told me.” 

“Johnny-” 

Johnny shook his head. He brushed off Jimmy’s hand and Tommy’s shouted apology as he headed for the door. He slammed it shut hard enough to rattle the walls but not nearly hard enough to shake loose the hurt stinging away at his eyes, prickling in his nose. 

_Unfuckingbelievable._

-

It was after ten when Johnny burst into his apartment. He had driven past the dojo on the way home from Tommy’s, mind twisting and churning with thoughts. The lights had been off and all the cars gone, but it wasn’t enough. It shouldn’t have been there at all, should have been blotched off the face of the world like the mistake it was. 

And his friends had known about it. His _mother_ had known about it! 

Johnny went to the living room, picking up the bottle he had left there the night before. He twisted the cap off but didn’t drink not yet. He paced the room, face heating up as he got more and more worked up. 

They had known and hadn’t told him and Johnny had walked in there like a fucking idiot. Strolled right into a snake pit and into the waiting jaws of a dead man. Johnny shuddered hard, hands wringing the bottle’s neck, throat tight when he swallowed. 

They had let him walk right into that because- because he’d been on a winning streak when it came to fucking up? Because he’d been mastering the art of being a functioning loser the past few years? 

Did they really think Johnny was that weak? 

_Did Bobby know?_ The thought hadn’t occurred to him, not until that moment. Was Bobby in on the grand conspiracy to not mention to Johnny that Cobra Kai was back? Had _everyone_ in his life been lying by omission? 

Johnny thunked the bottle on the counter, ignoring the flickering message light on the machine. He yanked open the junk drawer that was filled with bits, bobs, half a dozen grocery lists, and the phone book. Bobby’s note with contact information was still on top and Johnny fished it out. 

He dialed with one hand, the other holding the phone hard enough to make it creak. It was a long distance call and it rang and rang and rang. Johnny tapped his fingers on the counter, rapped his knuckles against it when tapping wasn’t enough. His knuckles ached but he kept doing it. 

It was three minutes when the phone quit ringing and a machine picked up. 

Johnny swore and slammed the phone back into the cradle. Johnny scooped up the bottle, bringing it to his mouth to take a swig- and immediately spat it right back into the bottle. His eyes watered as he dropped the bottle down on the counter, tongue prickling with agony as the alcohol seeped into the cuts. Johnny went to the sink, washing his mouth out with water, rinsing until the water went from pink to clear, until his eyes quit watering. 

He shut off the tap, hands on the sink, shoulders hunched. 

He couldn’t even drink without LaRusso fucking it up. 

_You sure you want to fight me?_

Why the hell hadn’t he? He should have knocked LaRusso’s block off right then and there. Should have punched his lights out. LaRusso had bested him one time back in high school and that had been pure luck. Johnny could have taken him, even with the Cobra Kai sign looming over them and Kreese watching them from the window. 

_Hands grazing his throat_ \- 

Johnny pushed off the counter. He raked his hand through his hair, tugging sharply. 

_We all know how well that turned out last time._

That son of a bitch. 

Johnny ripped the phonebook out of the drawer, slapping it down on the counter. He flipped the pages, locating the _Ls_ and skimming through the lists. There were three LaRusso’s in the area and not a single Daniel on the list. Johnny glared down at the names, thinking. 

He could drop by in the morning- Johnny placed that thought firmly on the backburner. It didn’t take Bobby to tell him that was a bad idea. Not with Kreese hanging around and Johnny’s heart rabbiting at the very thought. 

How could LaRusso even stand to be around him, much less learn from the man? 

_Not my sensei._ Yeah, right. Like anyone would want their student studying under someone else, much less under a person that had deliberately injured them. Not even that Miyagi guy would have been okay with that, not with that whole _thing_ after the fight in the parking lot. 

Johnny blinked. He flipped the pages, stopping at _Me_ and then continuing on when nothing stood out. In the _Mi section,_ he found what he was looking for. 

“Not your sensei,” Johnny repeated and ripped out the page. 

-

Nariyoshi Miyagi lived in Reseda and off the beaten path. It took Johnny twenty minutes of searching, circling around the general area until he found it. The house was hidden away behind a privacy fence in need of a good cleaning and didn’t have a mailbox in sight. Johnny parked outside the fence and walked until he found the gate. It was unlocked and Johnny let himself in. 

The property itself was in a similar state of disrepair. A house needing a fresh coat of paint, a deck in need of staining. The lawn was well cared for, as were the plants that were growing, but the yard seemed empty, as did the quiet, still house. A handful of lanterns lit the yard, but the house was dark save for a single low flame that cast flickering light over the windows. 

Someone was home but it was almost they were an afterthought. 

Even the cars, a line of them in one corner of the lot, seemed dusty and disused. All save for one: a familiar, yellow Ford. 

Johnny’s heart jumped. His smile was sharp as he marched across the yard, the prospect of a fight eating up the distance until he was on the porch. He hammered at the door and waited, then started again when only a moment had elapsed. He kept at it, frustration mounting the longer he waited, the eagerness dulling down to that cold fury as minutes passed. 

Johnny kicked the door and took a step back. He opened his mouth to start shouting when someone spoke from the right. 

“Can Miyagi help you?” 

Johnny startled badly, swinging around to face the voice. Miyagi was standing on the deck, staring at Johnny with something akin to amusement. He was dressed in a night robe, but didn’t appear to have been asleep. It had been five years since Johnny had last seen him and he looked older in a way that time couldn’t account for. 

Johnny stepped off the porch, coming to stand on the grass in front of him. He didn’t get closer, all too aware of the damage Miyagi could do. Johnny started to fold his arms and thought better of it. 

“I’m looking for LaRusso. He around here? He owes me a fight.” 

Miyagi blinked and frowned at him. “Daniel-san is not here.” 

Johnny jerked his chin at the Ford. “Isn’t that his car?” 

Miyagi looked over at the Ford, a frown pulling at his mouth, wrinkling his brow. He nodded. “Does not change answer. Daniel-san still not here.” 

“Then where the hell is he?” Johnny exploded, throwing up his hands. Had he really come all the way out here for nothing? 

“Miyagi would not know.” 

“How do you now know? You’re his sensei, aren’t you?” 

Miyagi had to be. If it wasn’t Kreese, it had to be Miyagi. LaRusso had practically worshipped the guy in high school. Johnny hadn’t even had to talk to LaRusso to know it, it was clear from across the room, from every snippet of overheard conversation, from the way Ali would sometimes rub it in Johnny’s face before the tournament happened. 

It wasn’t like Topanga had any good teachers, they hadn’t won a tournament in _decades._

When Mr. Miyagi answered there was a depth of sadness in his voice that halted Johnny in his tracks. “No,” Mr. Miyagi said. “Not for long time.” 

“If it’s not you and it’s not Kreese, then who the hell is it?” Johnny asked, the chance of a fight fading and leaving him crashing hard without something to cling to. 

“Owner of Cobra Kai.” 

“But you said it wasn’t Kreese.” 

“Kreese not owner. Terry Silver is.” 

“Who the hell is Terry Silver?” 

Miyagi’s gaze sharpened and he stared at Johnny like he was something unexpected. He looked at him and Johnny had the feeling that he was pulling him apart at the seams. It was an inspection and it left Johnny feeling exposed without knowing why. 

“Come inside, Johnny Lawrence,” Miyagi said and retreated back inside his house. 

Johnny hesitated, head turning to look at the gate, then back at the house. For a moment, just a second, he thought about bolting. But Johnny Lawerence wasn’t a coward. If he would walk into Cobra Kai, he could walk into an old man’s home. 

Johnny stepped up onto the deck and followed Miyagi into the house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this gif set by Oceluna](https://oceluna.tumblr.com/post/643426950917062656/tkk-role-swap-au-for-anon)  
> The tornado referenced is the 1990 Plainfield Tornado in Chicago. The Viper is based on the 1989 concept. (thanks Andi for suggesting it!) It wasn't released until1991, but I’m taking liberties with historical accuracy here lol.  
> Despite what a 7k chapter might say, don’t expect them all to be that long. We’re picking up speed, characters, and warning tags as we go, so keep an eye out in case your stop comes up.


End file.
